“It hurt at the time, but to look at him now,” she cringed, “I dodged a bullet; prison sentence for domestic violence, apparently.”
Breht put his arm over her shoulder and held her close. Offering her comfort regardless of how much time had passed, even though the wounds had long healed. She rested her head against him. Content to let the comfortable silence wash over them until the next stride in their conversation took over. His heart rate had kicked up a notch at their closeness. He was reluctant to let her leave his embrace when she motioned to a house with her thumb and indicated the front door.
“This is me,” Brierley announced, as though he didn’t know where she lived. The walk had passed by in a heartbeat. Over all too soon.
He opened the gate for her, and she asked, “Would you like to come in? Have a coffee?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, right now,” he replied, because he wanted it more than anything. He wantedhermore than anything. He knew how the words would sound. They’d push away all the tentative conversation topics, all the hinting and alluding toward mutual attraction. Steer her towards rejection, not for a second did he want her to feel that way. The red wine swirling around his head made him bold. As she turned to close the gate behind her, he reached out and pulled her close.
Brierley felt the bitter stab of Breht’s rejection. Only to be pulled back towards the orc. Her eyes widened as his hand swept through her hair, gripping the back of her head. She needed no guidance in finding his mouth, pressing herself against him. His lips parted, and their tongues danced, dragging over one another. The taste of wine was bitter on his tongue, a groundingtonic to their heated passion. Brierley could feel the press of his tusks against her cheeks, the impression of them a new experience to revel in. She’d never kissed an orc before, the touch of his tusks enticing, pleading her to explore more of their differences.
His eyes closed as he kissed her, a murmur growling in his throat. She was divinity in all manner of ways. Giving him a rush that seeped straight into his groin. His erotic need heightened when she raised her hands to cradle his head. Her fingers caressed the tips of his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to lean into her touch. To lose himself in her affections.
He came away from her breathless. His dark eyes connected with hers, finding them in the wan streetlight. His heart was pounding, wanting more. Not wanting to push things too far. Too soon. He took her hand in his and kissed the knuckles. The graze of his tusks on the softness of her hand.
“I want coffee and so much more besides,” he whispered, growling into the silence of the night.
"I'd like that," Brierley invited.
The squeak of the gate opening as he pushed past it was music to her ears. Breht stood over her, all broad muscles and intense stares. She reached her arms up around his neck and pulled him down towards her.
The warmth of his mouth against hers offered a welcome dose of comfort. As his maw parted, his rough tongue danced with hers, and her fingers gently caressed the tapered tip of his ears. Unwittingly, he groaned at the soft touch.
But he pulled back, his breathing ragged. His clawed thumb hooked underneath her chin, tilting her gaze towards him. Hegave her a swift, chaste kiss on her painted lips before stepping away.
"We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the effort it cost him. "And you deserve better than a man who's still half-drunk and emotionally raw."
Brierley's disappointment was visible, but she didn't push. She simply smiled and nodded, understanding without needing words.
Breht closed the creaking gate behind him. Sealing their fates to spend the night apart. The jingle of her keys had him turning back, just to make certain she got through the door safely. His fingers twitched in a small wave as she turned his way, and her heart-warming smile endeared him further towards her.
Brierley had been right. It was a long walk back to his hotel, but the night air and time to himself did him some good. His thoughts swirled with something far deeper than the evening's wine. Switching between the fight he'd had with Rosani, his renewed passion for his line of work and what that meant for his future. He was set to inherit Merloft Corps. Which would mean less time working with businesses like Ohpaua and more time stuck behind the big office desk his Ma cherished so much. Most prominent of all was the feeling that Brierley caused; there was something stirring in his chest for her, and it wasn't fleeting desire. It was the kind of feeling that made him want to be better. To be worthy of her trust. The way she'd looked at him when he pulled back—not angry, but understanding—told him she saw something in him worth protecting. Worth waiting for.
With his thoughts still broiling over him like a dangerous thundercloud, he arrived in the small hours of the morning at The Three Seashells. The white-fronted hotel was basiccompared to the usual high-rise hotel complex he stayed in while away on business. He almost tripped over a picnic bench that was in the small front garden and apologised to a tree for bumping into it. Inside, it was homely; the floral decor of his room was outdated and quaint. But the bed was comfortable, and the shower was hot. It was perfect.
He opened the door to his room with an antique key, rather than a card. Quaint. Nudging the door closed with his heel, he reached the double bed and slumped down onto it. Face forwards. The frills of the pillow tickled his face, but he made no attempt to move. The gentle sway of wine rocked him, quietening his fraught overthinking. Soon, deep, even breaths filtered from his nose as sleep rapidly took him.
Chapter 8
Withanunflatteringgroan,Breht rolled out of bed. The hangover was immediate and unforgiving, pressing behind his eyes like a vice. He showered in a haze of fragmented memories—the taste of her lips, the softness of her skin, the way she'd looked at him when he pulled back.
He could still feel the ghost of her touch as he dressed and made his way across town to retrieve his car. The memory of her didn't sting with regret. Instead, it settled in his chest like something precious. He'd made the right choice last night. She deserved better than a man half-drunk and emotionally raw, and the fact that she'd understood that, that she hadn't pushed or demanded more, only made him respect her more.
The keys for his C-Class were removed from his suit pocket when he arrived outside Alluin's house. With a low beep, it admitted him. He settled himself in the driving seat and adjusted the mirror before starting the car's purring engine. Themusic from the day before sounded too loud in his ears, and he hastened to turn it down.
He thought about her ears; how she'd discovered his sensitivity there, how she'd touched him with such tenderness. The memory made him smile despite the pounding in his head. That restraint had been worth it. She was worth it.
Clicking ticks of the indicator sounded as he signalled before driving off. It was an odd place for him to travel by car. None of the secret passages he walked down during his youth was accessible by car. It seemed to take him a lifetime to drive the route he’d walked, skipped and laughed down the previous night. Eventually, he pulled up outside the fateful front gate. Stopping outside of it with a regretful toot of his horn that blared through his foggy head.
He waited in the car, soothed by the easy tones of Dermot Kennedy singing about love, loss and regret. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered kissing her—the softness of her lips, the way she'd touched his ears with such tenderness, the feeling of her fingers in his hair. He wanted nothing more than to do it again. His heart quickened at the thought. He swallowed; a nervous tick that triggered only during unwitting excitement. The anticipation of seeing her again made it hard to focus on anything else.
Blessed distraction came as the door to his car opened and the sing-song announcement of ‘Good morning’ chipped through his horny hangover. Never mind that it was entirely thoughts of the woman who settled next to him, putting on her seatbelt, making him feel so worked up.
“Morning,” he replied.
“Ouch, you look rough,” Brierley complimented as she closed the door behind her.
“Red wine,” Breht grumbled. At least with Brierley in the car with him, he could stop daydreaming over what could and might have been and focus on the task at hand.
